The Film Company

Julie felt as if she was underwater. The blue light from the screen reflected on the walnut conference table like a pool, and lapped over the side onto the carpet she was lying on.

The tangle of their clothing was spread all around them. Jim, his dick large and dangling, was kneeling next to her, and licking her breasts, making the nipples glisten in the dim light. Gary was crouched between her legs, stroking her with her fingers, spreading her legs gently wider, and wider, until he had three fingers inside her and her pussy convulsed around him, throbbing deliciously.

The only sounds were the soft whirring of the computer and the projection unit, Jim’s tongue licking and receding, the whispery in and out suction of Gary’s fingers stroking inside her.

She wriggled and moaned as she came again, arching her back off the floor.

“There she goes,” Gary whispered, “that was a good one.”

“You get three,” Jim said. “Then we trade.”

“Then we fuck her,” Gary said, his voice lower still, “if she wants us to.”

“Yes,” she managed, her voice thick, “yes…”

Julie wondered briefly how she’d gotten here, under this table, late at night in a screening room at a film company where just a few weeks ago, she got her first shot at directing – a documentary on Boston’s public transit system – and they were congratulating her, toasting her, telling her she was no longer a ‘virgin’ – which was exactly how it all began.

Now she came again, so fast and hard that she felt herself gasping for air, as if she really were underwater, washed up on a distant shore where the only thing anyone ever did was get and give pleasure.

“Suck me?” Jim asked, and she turned her face toward him and took his hot, long cock in her mouth, working her tongue around the edges  – she could he liked that.

Gary spread her legs a little wider, and then it wasn’t his fingers inside her, but his thick dick, and he was rocking and bucking up against her, pressed low with the table not that high above him, and the more she came the deeper she was swallowing Jim’s cock until all three of them were moaning and sweaty and sated.


Less than a month ago, the champagne toast, her laughter. The film crew standing around, telling her she was great to work with, slowly drifting off to their homes and families.

She helped Gary and Jim clean up, though they hadn’t asked. Gary was divorced. She’d heard it was because he’d always had a roving eye, that was how the woman who ran the coffee stand down the hall put it. She could see that in him, the dark brown liquid Italian eyes and curly hair, the way he stood close to her – to every woman he met, really – not an intrusive sort of close, but an appealing, intimate, I’m here if you want me close. 

Jim was single, quiet, introspective. He was thinner, angular, blue eyes that you could occasionally call piercing but mostly seemed dreamy and unfocused. Not exactly stand-offish, but not warm and fuzzy either. Gary took on that role for both of them, Julie thought.

They were best friends who worked in TV news before they started producing documentaries; this was the first real job she’d had since leaving college. And it was a film company. She was working in her actual major. She was living the life.

Julie’s boyfriend moved to New York not long after graduation, but she decided to stay in New England. She wasn’t sure why, but maybe, just maybe, she felt a sense of relief that she wasn’t expected to move in with him.

But cut to three months later, and now she was kind of lonely. Kind of missed him. Kind of was hyper-aware that the entire crew had gone home to wives or husbands or lovers or someone, and here she was, 23 years old, and an empty studio apartment waiting three T-stops away.

The shoot was exciting, occupying, it was like being part of one organism. It was the way film work always felt, even when she was in school; you lived and breathed it. But now it was over. They could just let her go if a new project didn’t come rolling in soon, she knew that, they’d warned her when they hired her. They operated on a shoestring. When they weren’t in production they rented their edit bay out.

“There’s a new project coming in,” Jim said, as she swept up the paper cups, tossed them into a plastic bag.

“Oh, that’s great,” she said, feeling both like he’d read her mind and enormously relieved. 

“It’s about a grass roots campaign to stop gentrification. Thinking you could do some of the interviews, direct the shoots? We have to start editing on this one.”

“Sure,” she said, trying to sound cool about it. “That would be great.”

“Might be long hours,” Gary said. “Need you in on this edit, too. No overtime, though.”

“Of course,” she breathed. Better than she could’ve hoped for.

Gary stepped in close, tossing an empty champagne bottle into the bag. “I’m impressed by you. Really impressed.”

She could feel the heat of his body, and suddenly something else. A kind of sexual tension. Like he was interested in her. And although he was older than she was, ten years, maybe fifteen? – she was interested in him.

“That’s me. Dressed to impress,” she said, and felt enormously silly. No idea why she’d said that. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. She was a little drunk on the champagne, she’d eaten what, a slice of cheese? A single cracker?

“We could go get some Chinese,” Jim said. Now he was reading her mind, she thought. “Take her to Wu Yung’s.” 

“Rite of passage,” Gary nodded, still standing close. “But then – so’s this.”

And he kissed her. On the lips, full on, and she – a little buzzed, a little reckless, a lot glad she had a new project ahead, and okay, that she wasn’t going home to an empty apartment, at least not yet – she kissed him back.

He pressed her against him, she could feel his cock pressing through his jeans.

He had his hands on her buttocks, stroking them, holding her that close against him.

“Guys,” said Jim, his voice a little strained. “Hello, I’m here too.”

“Sorry,” Gary said, winking at her, and then, over her shoulder at Jim. “He’s a little shy.”

“Could I – kiss you too?” Jim asked.

And now that sexual tension was thick in the air, like humidity, warm and dense.

“Yes,” she said, feeling more reckless. “Why not?”

And he moved up next to her, and kissed her, and his kiss was different, softer, gentler. His tongue probed hers, and hers touched his. This was fun.

Gary was still stroking her buttocks.

“Can we play?” he asked.

“Aren’t we now?” she replied, coming up for air.

Jim moved across the small office, locked the door, and turned off the lights.

Outside the red and white and blue neon Citgo sign – a Boston icon – flicked up and down, up and down. 

Gary moved behind his desk, dropped down on his big leather chair. “Come here,” he said. “Have a seat.”

She sat on his lap and he unzipped his jeans. Now she could see, as well as feel, that thick, large dick. She was ridiculously turned on. He stroked her butt again, slowly, and then, hands moving around her, slowly worked her own zipper down.

He put his hand against her panties; she was already wet. He pushed her panties aside and slipped his thumb inside her. She grew wetter still. He was stroking her back and forth and sideways, found her clit and rubbed it. He knew what he was doing. That alone was a thrill. Both Julie and her boyfriend had their first time together. And it was nice, but it never ever felt like –

She closed her eyes and cried out. “Oh, my God,” she said.

“I’d like to make you come again,” he whispered, his breath hot and moist in against her cheek.

“So would I,” said Jim.

He stepped up behind her, and she heard him unzip, too. She felt his cock, unsheathed, rubbing against her. He lifted her T-shirt, rubbed the warm, damp head of it against the now-bare small of her back.

Gary had two fingers inside her, and she came again.

Jim lifted her T-shirt higher, and unsnapped her bra. 

Her breasts dangled, and Gary leaned in, lifting the front of her shirt, pushing the loose bra up, sucking one tit, and then the other.

Jim carefully raised each arm, slipping them from the sleeves of her shirt. He pulled the shirt over her head, and dropped it on Gary’s desk. He slid the bra, one strap, and then the other, down her arms, and then tossed it aside, too.

He reached around her and tweaked and rubbed at her nipples with his thumb and forefinger. Jim rubbing them, Gary licking them, Gary’s thumb up inside her, her panties bunched up and damp – she came again, with a deep pulse that sent a shiver through her body.

“You like that,” Jim said, not a question.

She managed a nod. 

Jim lifted her from Gary’s lap, and carefully, kneeling in front of her, lowered her jeans, peeling them down her thighs to her ankles. He untied her sneakers, lifted one foot at a time, slipped them off, slipped off her socks, pulled her jeans all the way off. He peeled off her underwear, one leg out, one leg in, lifting the other leg free.

Now she was naked.

Larry was reaching up to her from his chair, his fingers grazing her pubic hair, stroking the outside of her pussy; she looked down at his hand. Her pubic hair was already slick and wet. She let out a low moan as she came again.

Jim stood behind her, his cock brushing her butt, then slipping between her legs rubbing against her pussy. 

Gary stood too, in front of her. One finger, two, three, and his thumb – all inside her. Each finger was doing something a little different. One stroking up and down, one side to side, one just moving in and out, his thumb pushing toward her anus.

They took her hands and led her over to the sofa. “The casting couch,” Jim said with a low laugh.

“You’ve already got the part,” Gary added.

“She’s the star, man,” Jim breathed.

“Who do you want to do you first?” Gary asked.

“Jim,” she said, just to get a little control. “He’s been waiting.”

Jim pulled a condom from his pocket, tore the packet with his teeth, and was on top of her fast. He lifted her legs high around him, over his shoulders. He rocked back and forth against her, and Gary was watching, she watched Gary watch, the gleam in his eyes. It was a scene he was savoring, enjoying.

He moved closer to her, his cock close to her face. She didn’t suck him, even though she knew that was what he wanted. She took him in one hand, and rubbed him lightly with her palm and fingers. She saw him wet his lips. Anticipation. 

He could wait awhile longer. She had to focus on coming herself.

She closed her eyes, and let her hand trail off the side of the sofa to the floor. She arched her lower body, meeting Jim with each stroke he made. She felt herself coming, like the earth was falling away, and then Jim came, kissed her, told she was beautiful; kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose.

Gary was sitting in his desk chair again, his cock straight up in the air like a big phallic rocket, already in a rubber. He spun the chair close to the sofa. “Sit on my lap again?” he said. 

Languidly, still making him wait – she wasn’t that easy, she thought, and the thought made her laugh; she was easy enough to have sex with her bosses door locked, but the blinds up. If anyone had looked up from Kenmore Square below, they would’ve seen…

And wanted to be her, she thought. Or with her.

She sat on his lap, Gary worked his cock up inside her, and just feeling him enter her, she came again. Who was she more attracted to? Gary, yeah. But Jim was great, a surprise how great he was, so maybe she wanted them both the same. 

Gary kissed her. Jim again stood behind her, his arms around her body, hands on her breasts, pulling and rubbing at her nipples.

“Make yourself come,” Gary said. “Will you?”

She came, wow, ten times, maybe? Gary inside her, pushing and receding, her hips locked to his. She stroked herself. Jim stroked her tits. Occasionally he dropped one hand over hers, so that he was guiding her own fingers inside her.

Then Gary stood up, carrying her with him, together they dropped to the floor. She was still on top of him, but they both had more room to move, and Jim bent down behind her, his tongue roving across the back of her neck, kissing all along her spine, down to the crack of her buttocks, licking her anus. 

Man, it was good.

Gary came. She came one last shuddering time and fell forward against him.

A moment, and then he rolled her lightly away. Jim lay down beside her, playing with her nipples again. Gary kissed her belly, her thighs, he legs all the way down to her ankles.

Then he got up, and put his pants on again.

“Chinese,” he said. “Have you both forgotten?”


She could smell the sex on them in the cab, as they sat in a row together in the back seat, with her in the middle. They each had a hand on one knee. Gary talked about the Red Sox with the driver. The summer air blew in warm and a little fetid as they made their way across the city to Chinatown.

They gorged themselves silly – fried rice and vegetable moo shoo and and slippery shrimp, and egg rolls. The fortune cookies weren’t enough for them – hers read “You will have good luck,” and she felt she already had it. They went for gelato in the North End, chocolate with chocolate chips, cannoli and espresso.
She was full to bursting but wired on the coffee, and she thought they would still go back to the office and have sex again. The three of them. The Three Muskateers she thought suddenly – but they put her in another cab and sent her home. 

“See you tomorrow cutie,” Gary said. And Jim blew her a kiss.

The espresso kept her up for hours. She took a hot shower, she tried late night TV, and still she lay in bed awake. She made herself come again and again, repeating in her mind the visual of the three of them naked, on the floor… each of their big, engorged dicks.


She’d forgotten to set her alarm and was an hour late the next day.

“Afraid you wouldn’t come in,” Jim said, as she opened the office door. “I mean I didn’t think yesterday was too much but…”

“It wasn’t,” she said quickly, and then felt embarrassed by how fast she’d responded.

“She’s fine, she’s family, she’s one of us,” Gary said. “Let’s go look at the footage,” he said. “Gotta get cracking.”

Again, she felt the little stab of disappointment. Neither one of them was touching her. 

What did she expect? Non-stop sex?


They stood in the edit bay, the two of them, like kids, play boxing over who got what chair. 

Maybe Gary saw the disappointment on her face.

“Chinese food has this effect on us,” Gary said. 

She flashed a grin.

“Something affected you, sure.” 

Neither of them bit, so she shut up about it.

She went over her notes from the shoot, made suggestions for the first 

scenes, underlined the logs in precise strokes of yellow marker.

They ordered in sandwiches, they worked through lunch, and then it was almost five again.

Maybe now? She thought. 

But the only thing that happened was yawning, stretching, and see you tomorrow.

“Okay,” she said.


Days passed and nothing happened. She put what had aside. She still felt that tension in the air sometimes, Jim’s hand brushing hers; Gary patting her shoulders. 

But nothing happened.

It felt weird, like she’d almost dreamed it, or maybe they were embarrassed by it, or maybe they didn’t like it as much as she thought.


“We have a rough cut,” Jim announced triumphantly.

She was working out the camera assignments, the scheduling, people to interview for the gentrification project. They’d been in the edit bay for days. She’d come in, have coffee, give feedback, that was it. 

“Drop what you’re doing, come in the screening room,” he enthused.

From the minute she entered the room felt the change in the atmosphere. They were excited about finishing the project. Excited about it — and her. 

“Hope you like it. Took every note you gave us,” Gary said.

“Wanted to please you,” Jim said.

And she knew he meant something other than the film.

34 minutes later, “I love it,” she said.

“Changes?” Jim asked.

“I don’t have any,” she said. Maybe one or two things she’d do differently, but she was into the other project now, the first shoot was coming up next week and…

She was most interested in this new thing in the air. Something that cleared it between them, and also made everything seem steamy, even though the a/c was on full blast.

“We should break out some more champagne, then,” Jim said.

“Go out for Chinese,” Gary suggested.

“Is this what you always do?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Jim said. “When we finish each part of a project.”

“So. What about me? You’re finally gonna do me? Recognize I might want a little attention?” Her own boldness surprised her. 

Gary was already kissing her. Swiftly, Jim stripped down to nothing but his boxers. He lowered her to the floor, and carefully undressed her, until she was completely naked. His fingers were hot on her skin. She tingled everywhere he touched. Gary undressed, adding his clothes to the growing heap. He licked her, starting at her ankles and moving up, up, until his tongue was deep inside her pussy. 

The blue light of the projector screen washed over them, their tongues, fingers, dicks, her pussy. She sucked them both off. They made her come with their lips and hands and cocks.

She rolled away under the table, catching her breath and a blast of a/c.

Her nipples hardened. She stroked her wet pussy until she cried out, making them watch, making them wait.

Then they each fucked her. Twice.

It felt like she was underwater, but Julie sure didn’t mind the dive. 

This time, though– she was going to control how she came to the surface. She snatched her underwear, tossed on one of the screening room chairs, slid out from under the table, and stood, feeling her power.

They lay there watching her, sweat and come and saliva glistening on their bodies. 

“Next time,” she said, “next time we’ll get Chinese.”